


Red Dead Pursuit

by Chai_Is_Here



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Consensual Non-Consent, Dom Arthur Morgan, Exhibitionism, F/M, Mutual Pining, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Work, Slow Burn, Sub Arthur Morgan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-08-20 07:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20224264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chai_Is_Here/pseuds/Chai_Is_Here
Summary: Nathalie Findlay is a working woman with a secret and a goal. Arthur Morgan has no idea the trap he’s about to fall into. Can they survive each other, or are they in over their heads?





	1. Pursuit

**Author's Note:**

> I’m going to mark this as an initial slow burn, but expect the chapters to go something like this: slow burn, porn, slow burn, slow burn, slow burn, porn, porn, porn. First fanfiction - please be gentle, critique very welcome!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recent edits for horse name changes, plot alterations, and to make Arthur more true to character.

Arthur paused on the porch, eyes flicking over the various posters. Artist renditions of scars, cruel eyes, and hard living men gazed back at him. He paused, mouth quirking in reflection while he thought. He grabbed the poster closest to him, tearing it from the wall. Shoulder first, he pushed open the sheriff’s door, confidently sauntering inside. The deputy at the desk looked up, tired eyes taking him in. 

“Anyone seen this feller in a while?” Arthur asked, purposely keeping his face blank. Confidence was key here. He always got a small, nervous thrill from walking into the hornet’s nest like this, but no law had recognized him yet from just asking about bounties. Or, if they did, they didn’t know that he was likely infinitely more valuable than whatever bounty he inquired about. 

The door burst open behind him, interrupting the deputy’s prepared response. Arthur stepped to the side, observing the newcomer with a quick, calculating glance. He was small and lithe, standing no higher than Arthur’s collar. His tan hat was squashed firmly on top of his head, brim tugged determinedly over the stranger’s eyes. More interesting was the cargo the youth dragged behind him. It was one of the bounties on the wall that Arthur had contemplated only moments earlier. Arthur smiled a little, tucking it into his shoulder before it could grow. The boy was clearly struggling with his catch and made no effort to do anything other than drag his prize. Grunting some, the stranger dropped his deadweight prize at the base of the deputy’s desk. 

“Christ!” The deputy laughed. “Does your mama know what you’ve been up to, boy?” 

The smaller man made no attempt to address his question, merely setting his shoulders and slapping down a torn, dirty copy of a bounty poster. “That’s 15 dollers. Says so right there.” His voice was scratchy and cracked. 

The deputy shot the prone man’s body a look. “Is he dead?” 

“Nah. He should wake up eventually.” 

Shaking his head, the deputy retrieved his keyes and rummaged in his desk. Finding the sum he offered it the bounty hunter. The youth snatched it from his hands and in three steps was gone as quickly as he had come. 

Arthur met the deputy’s eyes with restrained amusement. The deputy snorted. 

“Kids these days. Who are you lookin’ for?”

* * *

Nathalie Findlay was a pretty thing, and she knew it. She had been the loveliest at her former place of work, and she was certainly the loveliest girl at the saloon in Rhodes that night. She dressed herself well and carried herself better. Many a suitor had fallen into her grey eyes, and more still had lost themselves and their payroll to her figure. She’d used her heart shaped face and soft lips to portray a deceptive naivete, but was just as quick to utilize the stubborn set of her chin and the sharp, proud set of her brows. Anything to achieve the means to her ends. 

It was dark when the two boisterous youths entered the saloon. Nathalie watched them enter from the bannister above the stairs, gray eyes flicking over their dirty unkempt clothes and frenetic energy. Both seemed in remarkably good spirits, the redhead’s voice soaring through the relative peace of the saloon. 

The lilt of his voice was pleasant, but clearly foreign. His swarthy companion’s replies were clever and quick, resulting in a round of shared laughter. She waited until they’d seated themselves at the bar before approaching it as well. She did not sit, and instead leaned lightly against the wood, carefully avoiding the eyes of the redhead who turned to look at her. The bartender leaned towards her. 

“One whiskey, please. Nothing fancy,” She spoke. Her words were soft, and both the bartender and the redheaded man leaned in infinitesimally to catch her words. Beside her the dark skinned man chuckled, jabbing his companion with his elbow. His dimples flashed and Nathalie found herself having to turn her head to refrain from admiring them. He was cute, but likely not her best target tonight. 

“Haven’t we already won enough tonight, Sean?” 

His friend laughed, leaning back. “I’m on a roll now, why stop?” His accent was decidedly irish. “This lass’ drink is on me, bartender!”

Nathalie looked at him head-on for the first time, lips shifting into a charmed smile. 

“For me?” She crooned. To her own ears, her voice sounded sickly sweet. 

“Sure, anyt’ing for a pretty lady! Come sit with us, doll!” Sean cheered. His friend smiled, leaning back in his seat. 

So she stepped closer, taking the seat beside them. The two men were friendly and not lecherous as she had feared, and soon Nathalie found herself relaxing and enjoying their company. The three were in the middle of a story about the swarthy youth, Lenny, unsuccessfully taming a wild mule and were deep into their third round when the saloon door opened.

The sound of rain entered the establishment. Nathalie glanced up and felt herself soaking up the newcomer. He was exactly what she was looking for. The man sighed, scraping his boots and propping his battered black hat back as he locked eyes with Lenny and Sean. Both men’s faces split back into smiles and Sean waved his hand over his head. 

“Art’ur! Just the man of the hour!”

“I better be,” The man grumbled. “I’ve been lookin’ for you two long enough.” His r’s were almost imperceptible between his rough voice and his dialect. 

“Come join us and meet Nathalie!”

“Nathalie, huh?” He repeated, voice dry. His eyes slid over hers and down her body, momentarily hesitating on the tight tailoring of her blouse. She waited, allowing him to observe the swell of her breasts and the flare of her hips at her full skirt. She didn’t like to show everything she had, but she was well aware of the powerful effect of her figure and had no qualms using it. It made her chosen career easy, and she would be lying if she didn’t occasionally enjoy the attention. Her riding vest was neat, clean, and carefully selected for the barest hint of cleavage it suggested along the collar of her blouse. 

He was interested all right, but his gaze was brief. As quickly as it had come, his attention was gone again. He redirected it to the bar and motioned for a drink. To the untrained eye, he seemed more interested in his spirit than the curve of Nathalie's figure. Nathalie's eye was not untrained. The want, then hesitation in his eyes and subsequent dismissal was not something she'd encountered often, but Nathalie was ready. She'd always relished a challenge, and she was good at her craft.

When his attention flicked back to his companions she took the moment to scan her own appraising glance over his attire. He was muddy, coarse, and a hulking figure of man. The spurs on his boots dripped rain water as he stepped closer. His movements were surprisingly light and suggested the ability to move quicker and more accurately than many a lawman was probably comfortable with. The creaking bandolier pulled across his broad chest and holsters on his hip reinforced Nathalie’s train of thought. Arthur was a dangerous man, and she found herself re-evaluating her goal with vague unease. No matter. She was a capable woman. 

“Is Nathalie working tonight?” The man inquired, meeting her gaze with an abject, uninterested look. He was clearly not as interested in the prospect of paid company as others were- say, Sean, for example. Nathalie shifted in her seat, meeting his hazel eyes. He was definitely going to be a harder sell. She saw Sean’s shoulders slump in response to Arthur’s blunt words even as Lenny’s smile shrank. 

“Leave t’e lady alone, you’ll scare her off. Pay no mind to him, lassie,” Sean leaned towards her conspiratorially. “There’s no helping him, he’s just naturally morose.” 

She laughed in response. “Nathalie’s not working tonight,” Nathalie replied with purposeful cheer. "I actually just moved here - was thinking about laying down the business. Might retire.” 

Arthur moved into the seat beside her, his chair creaking beneath his weight. “Retire. Might young to do that.” His hazel eyes flashed to hers. He was a handsome man, she decided. She’d always been fond of a face with character, and Arthur’s was no exception. Where Lenny’s bone structure was smooth and Sean’s skin unblemished, Arthur’s bore scars, freckles, and the suggestion of a previously broken nose. His face simultaneously displayed a lifetime of hard outdoor living and a carefully schooled lack of expression. Nathalie recognized his mask - she used a similar one. 

Sean’s eyes gleefully resumed perusing her body, content that Arthur’s gruff manner had not scared her off. 

Nathalie shrugged, flashing a coy smile. “I worked hard and I worked good. Maybe I deserve some time off to play.” 

Arthur barked a quick laugh, shaking his head as he raised his hand to the bartender.

“You from out of town then?” Lenny asked, interested.

“You could say that,” she smiled, downing the dregs of her glass. Sean quickly followed suit, motioning to the bartender for another round. Arthur, Nathalie noticed, was quick to follow suit. _ Good, _ she thought. That would help.

As the conversation continued and one question morphed into another story and another drink, the men relaxed. Sean was carefree and loud while Lenny became more and more vocal. The set of Arthur’s shoulders relaxed and he began volunteering his own tales. Nathalie’s laughter came easily and she found that she was enjoying the three men’s company. It was another round of whiskey later for her and two more for the three men before she brought up the map.

“Do you three know the area pretty well?” She questioned, eyes flicking to each man’s face. Sean and Lenny leaned in. She smelled the whiskey on their breath. It wouldn’t be long now. Arthur watched her, eyes sharp beneath the brim of his hat. “I bought this map.”

“A map!” Sean crowed, his voice a little louder than the occasion called for. He clutched his glass as Lenny nodded rapidly. “Treasure?”

“Hopefully!” She laughed. “I was planning on staying here a while anyway. Would you gents be willing to show me around? It could be fun!” She leaned forward then, choosing that moment to curl a strand of her thick curls around a finger absentmindedly. She was sure she was laying it on a bit thick, but she doubted her audience knew it. _ Men saw what they wanted. _She'd done this long enough to know that, at this point, it would take more than over-dramatic simpering to scare them off. 

Lenny grinned in response, his gaze flicking to Arthur’s. The big man’s posture did not change but for a slight narrowing of his eyes and an almost imperceptible further relaxing of his shoulders. _ Got him. _She had his interest, and the rest was a routine she knew well. 

“Of course!” crowed Sean, smashing his palm onto the table. 

The broad smile she gave was natural and easy. She leaned in, cocking an eyebrow above her grin. A light tawny curl swung from her shoulder, tickling her arm. She carefully shifted in her seat, taking care to brush her leg against the big man’s. He did not withdraw his own, but she could feel his stiffness. After a moment she relaxed her leg a hair’s distance from his own. 

Arthur’s face did not change but for a slight uptick of his mouth. The ghost of a smile made Nathalie’s thoughts skip, and she was careful to smooth her face into eager, naive excitement. The alcohol was helping - it usually did. Bit by bit, she could feel him relaxing his guard, and, hopefully, opening himself to new potential opportunities.

"I wouldn't want to impede," She said, feigning hesitance. "if you have other things to do..." 

“Of course not, lassie!! 'Can't keep us back from an outing, eh?” Sean crooned. Nathalie smiled broadly, allowing some relief to slip into the set of her lips.

“Probably better this way - Rhode’s got an outlaw problem,” Lenny chuckled. Nathalie’s gaze flicked to the younger man's quickly. 

“No need to scare her Lenny,” Arthur chuckled. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.” While his words were light, his eyes darted a veiled warning to Lenny to shut up. Lenny only smiled in response. Nathalie pretended not to notice, but flashed Arthur a private smile as his arm grazed hers. It was all she could do to not lean into him. 

He had a strange magnetism she hadn’t encountered before, and she found she quite enjoyed it. Perhaps it was the whiskey talking - or maybe she was in for more than she’d bargained for. Either way she was heartily looking forward to the coming morning. 

Lenny, surprisingly, had been the first to suggest retiring for the night. Nathalie quickly agreed, citing a long day of travel and an eagerness for their planned outing. Her room was already prepped for her upstairs and she could feel the bed calling. Sean was quick to bemoan the decision, but allowed himself to be guided up by Arthur’s firm hand on his arm. 

Nathalie didn’t miss the way Arthur’s shoulders rolled as he guided the Irishman up - and Arthur didn’t miss the way she watched him. He flashed her a quick miniscule smirk, emboldened by the whiskey. Her cheeks flushed and she found herself involuntarily trying to rub the blush away as he tilted his hat to her. Lenny was quick to do the same even as Sean tossed her a broad grin and an almost ominous farewell.

“We’ll see ye’ come morning, miss Nathalie. You’ll be in good hands.” 

* * *

"Didn't expect _ you _ to come along," Lenny quipped, studying the older outlaw. The light of the morning filtered around the dark skinned youth. He didn't flinch from it, as Sean and his slight hangover did. The paler man hung back, hidden from the bright sun by the scant shade of the general store's porch. 

Arthur grunted non-committally. 

"Figured it couldn' hurt," he allowed. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn't sure why he was here either. The treasure was one thing - it would be easy enough to con this naive woman into giving up the supposed location and claiming it before her.

The three men had rode into town later than he'd liked, but none of the shopkeepers had mentioned seeing the young woman leave yet. With any luck, their mark would be down from the hotel soon. 

Arthur patted the mane of his horse absently while he thought. The soft nose of his white Arabian mare, Blodduwedd, butted his shoulder, and he accepted the non-verbal request with a chin scratch. 

They had established a rough plan the night before.Whoever she first showed the map to would mention splitting up in order to cover more ground. They'd break into pairs, and whoever was left with the woman would be sure to mislead and slow her, until they eventually arrived to the emptied location. The remaining pair would ride up shortly after, the treasure safely tucked away, and the three men would be sure to console the woman and leave her none the wiser. 

Sean, of course, had volunteered to stay with the young woman. Over his best protests it had been reaffirmed that no, whoever saw the map first, would be with the group to leave and go ahead. Lenny had only been able to assuage him by teasing Sean about the chance to soothe a disappointed prostitute. That had perked him up, and now he wouldn't shut up. 

"From the looks of those big gray eyes of 'ers, I bet she'll just give us a share jus' for helpin'," Sean practically purred. He had been insufferable at camp the night before and had been talking non-stop to anyone who would listen about the working girl they'd met and how she had begged for his help. 

Arthur wasn't so sure of that. The woman had struck him as naive, sure, but he doubted she was trusting and goodwilled enough to divide a cache up four ways with three men she'd just met. No one was that naive. However, if they played their cards right, Arthur didn't doubt that they'd walk away with the map's secrets. 

However, something about the woman - _ Nathalie, _Arthur reminded himself - felt a bit too good to be true. Sean had been letting his cock do his thinking for him since the moment he met the woman. That wasn't unusual for him, but Lenny too had fallen into an easy opinion about the pretty girl. Arthur was not so hasty. He had endured a lot more wiles from the better sex than the younger two men had, and generally found himself wary of them more often than not. But still, his pants had been uncomfortably tight that night the whole ride home. This was a job, and he was determined to treat it like one. 

And yet, it had been so long. He hadn't lain with a woman since Mary, and Nathalie had certainly seemed interested. He thought of her leg against his, those eyes she'd shifted so often to his the night before. The glimpse of a freckle he'd seen on the swell of her breast, just for a second, before she had readjusted her blouse. 

Maybe, if she offered, a slight detour from the job couldn't hurt. Blodduwedd huffed in his face affectionately, and Arthur smiled. 

* * *

The morning light was unexpectedly bright after the dimness of the hotel. Nathalie threw her hand up momentarily before tugging her tan rancher’s hat lower over her eyes. It took her a second to realize that Arthur, Lenny, and Sean were already waiting for her at the hitching posts. She waited for her eyes to adjust, and then flicked her attention onto Lenny’s palomino and Sean’s bay. Her breath caught as her eyes rested on a brilliant white Arabian mare. She almost didn’t see Arthur because of it. 

“You comin’, or are we goin’ wait all day while you stare at my horse,” called out the man in question. Natalie’s brows scrunched briefly before slipping back into a relaxed, light grin. 

“Well damn, if you don’t want anyone staring, you shouldn’t have chosen such a lovely horse,” she chuckled. Arthur cast his eyes down to his mount, smiling gently as his fingers patted his horse’s neck. She found herself caught up in the softness of his expression longer than she would have liked. 

“I’s alright, Lenny and I just ride chopped liver,” joked Sean. Natalie laughed, moving quickly past them to the stable. Sean was quick to watch the gentle shift of her hips as she walked. She wore a fashionable soft lavender riding skirt and a white linen blouse.

“Give me two seconds and I’ll show you gents a thing or two about horses!” she called over her shoulder. As soon as she was out of sight, she exhaled quickly, thumbing her hat. She’d hoped she’d only been so affected by Arthur last night due to the whiskey. That clearly wasn’t the case, and she nervously smoothed the collar on her blouse, an errant hand scattering the dust which rose beneath her boots. 

She always tried to dress for the part during a hunt, but this man found her doubting her choice in clothes for the first time in years. She'd tried on three different outfits before she caught herself and was horrified at her nervousness. _ As uncertain and as bashful as a young girl, _Nathalie chided herself. It was unbecoming. No matter. It wouldn’t bother her as soon as she was on horseback. When she rode, she was free. 

In Nathalie’s absence Sean caught Arthur’s eye, frowning. “What’s got you this nice to her? I saw that last night too. The one time I go after a lass you get soft on her too?” 

Lenny snorted. “Sean, you go after all of them.” 

Arthur only flashed a small, barely-there smirk at the redheaded man, tilting his head back. “Who said anythin’ about me goin’ soft on her?” 

Sean gasped in mock hurt as Lenny snickered at the innuendo. If the two men were surprised that Arthur was interested, they didn't have the chance to comment. Arthur was quick to school his face back into a cool stare as Nathalie returned - that is, until he saw her horse. Lenny whistled, his eyes raking the thoroughbred in a way he had not admired Natalie.

She felt a rush of pride as she led her stallion forward. He was small for his breed, and of unusual coloring. His red roan coat glistened copper and pink in the sun, his mane burning such a vivid red that it was almost as bright to look upon as Arthur’s mare. She may have admired the man's white Arabian, but she had yet to see a horse she believed could hold a candle to her own. She was biased of course, but Jericho was her one pride and joy. 

“I call him Jericho, but he’s basically a Lothario,” She joked. “Keep that mare away if you want to still be able to ride her.” 

“I don’t know, are you going to charge a stud fee?” Sean asked, eying the stallion. 

“You should ask Arthur that for me,” teased Nathalie. Arthur tossed his head back and let out a genuine, throaty laugh. She grinned as she swung herself up into the saddle. Lenny snorted, reining his gelding into place beside Jericho.

“I mean he’s pretty, but looks kinda small. I think we could take him on,” Lenny grinned, patting the palomino. The gelding gnawed at the bit, tossing his head. Nathalie eyed him. He was lovely as well, but she very much doubted she’d have competition in speed. Jericho was her best weapon, and she used him often. Arthur’s mount - now there she might have some competition. 

“Race to the bridge? Let’s find out!” With a feral woop she tapped Jericho forward. He responded quickly to her cue, diving forward. The sudden acceleration whipped her hat off her head, releasing a wild collection of honey colored curls. The stampede strings were the only thing holding her hat now, but she didn’t care. Within seconds the four of them were flying through Rhodes, kicking up massive billows of smoke. Someone on the street squawked indignantly, but they were already gone. 

The bridge wasn’t far, and Jericho’s stamina was better than his acceleration. But Natalie need not have worried. She knew her horse better than she knew herself, and she knew when to push him and when to let him take the lead. It wasn’t long before her avalanche of a horse was one, two, three heads ahead of even Arthur’s mare. Her snowy nostrils flared wildly, legs pumping hard even as Jericho pulled ahead.

The thunder of his hooves emboldened her, urged her to drive him faster, faster. It was only a strangled shout that reminded her to slow him even as they blew past the bridge. Her horse huffed wildly, tossing his head as she reined him around and back to face the competition. 

It was all she could do to narrowly pull Jericho back from crashing into the snowy mare. Arthur whooped, face flushed as he too slowed his mount. His mouth was stretched into a broad grin, making his face look years younger. The palomino and the blood bay were meters behind, both their riders windswept and jubilant as they thundered to a trot.

“Holy shit!” hollered Sean. “Tell me about stud fees again?” 

Nathalie just beamed. 

“You can’t buy that eagerness to run. Did you tame him?” Arthur asked, eyes afire. His gaze swept her again, appraising her and her horse with something that could have been admiration. 

“I did buy him. But I bought him from a man who gave up on him. I just had to show him how to talk to me,” Nathalie divulged, patting her stallion’s neck. 

“Talk to you?” Arthur asked. The analytical part of Nathalie’s mind noticed his intrigue. He was definitely more receptive than when they had first met. The emotional part of her was elated to talk horse. A smaller part of her brain eagerly noted how passion lit up his rugged features. 

“Yes! We did a whole lot of training together! Training is basically just communication,” she shrugged with a huge smile, stroking Jericho’s neck. She didn't mention that she'd spent so much time training the horse she'd nearly forgotten her clients.

“You’ll have to show me,” Arthur replied excitedly. “I mean, Blodduwedd is receptive, but I want to see how he responded to just a touch! You’re not even wearing spurs!” He was attentive, she’d give him that. She made a quick mental note not to underestimate his perception capabilities. 

Lenny and Sean exchanged an exasperated glance as the two giddily traded horse tips. After a few minutes, when the four had gradually gravitated off the road, Lenny cleared his throat. Both Arthur and Nathalie looked up, surprised to see that they’d gotten so carried away in conversation. 

“So let’s look at this map, should we?” Lenny grinned. Much to Sean's dismay, Nathalie turned towards Arthur as she retrieved and unfolded the map. He leaned towards her as he skimmed the paper. With a slight frown, he glanced to Lenny and Sean. 

"Well now," he drawled. "This could be two different spots." Arthur prayed to God that both Lenny and Sean actually knew the correct location. Out loud, he voiced that he thought it was in a tree down in Caliban's Seat. To his great relief, Lenny and Sean both argued that they were sure it was an old oak by the oil fields - the correct location. Arthur flashed a smile to the other two men in confirmation. 

Nathalie watched that smile with sharp eyes. _ This might be easier than I thought, _Nathalie mused. Her lips quirked into a crooked smile. 

“Why don’t we split up?” She piped. All three men looked at her carefully, gears turning. After a moment of silence she laughed. “Oh come now, equal shares for everyone no matter who finds it.” 

Arthur’s face slowly cracked into another smile, eyes twinkling as he cocked his head. “Totally equal shares?”

“You know what Arthur, if I lose a race with you there, you can take some of my share,” She teased. Lenny hummed in thought.

“And!” She sidled Jericho decidedly closer to Blodduwedd than to Lenny and Sean’s mounts. Her throat tightened, mouth suddenly dry at what she was about to suggest. It was ridiculous she was this nervous. She was a grown, working woman, damn it! “_ And _ I’ll sweeten the pot. If I lose, I can show you why I can afford to retire.” 

She flashed a brilliant smile directly at Arthur, making her connotation as clearly as if she'd asked him to bed. 

Arthur blinked at her. His adam’s apple bobbed momentarily. Nathalie watched, fascinated despite herself as he cracked his voice. Lenny was silent, watching the exchange with wide eyes. Sean, for once in his life, was speechless. He gawped until Lenny kicked at him, at which point he closed his mouth but motioned his disbelief out of sight of the other two riders. 

“Ah, well, that’s mighty generous of ye’.” For one of the first times all morning, Arthur lifted his hat back and met her gaze with his own. The morning light revealed a shock of cornflower blue, a color so brilliant it took Nathalie's breath away. His flushed cheeks, bright from the wind and chill of the race, brought to mind the image of his face similarly flushed, but from a different exertion. His lips dimpled into a small, shy smile.

After a second too long, Nathalie found herself again and laughed. "The joke is on you, I might just be a good carpenter!” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman quite like you before,” Arthur chuckled. “But I know you ain’t no carpenter.” Nathalie was sure without a doubt that everyone present had no doubt that she was not a career carpenter. With a wild grin she reigned Jericho back onto the road. She’d let him find out for himself.

“See you boys at the treasure!” She cried out. She tossed Arthur a blatant wink, wheeled her horse to the proper direction, and then was gone.

Arthur wasted no time.

Within a second he yipped, spurring his mare into a wild leap after her receding figure. The two horse riders were no more than just small figures disappearing around the bend within moments. Sean watched as long as he could before swiveling in his saddle to meet Lenny’s slack-jawed face over the tips of his bay’s ears. 

There was a beat of silence while the two grappled with what they'd just witnessed. The silence was broken by Sean.

“I mean, I’ll race ye’, but I ain’t gonna’ fuck ye’,” Sean snickered. 

“Thank god for small mercies,” Lenny snorted. “C’mon, let’s go get this money. Karen’s not going to believe this.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing our spectacular cast of horses; Blodduwedd, the ice princess, and Jericho, the asshole.


	2. Dalliance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author listens to Halestorm while writing, the reader gets sub Arthur. That's just the way it is.
> 
> Edit: Alterations to horsie names, continued.

There was nothing to hear but the pounding of hooves and the intoxicating boom of blood rushing in their ears. Both riders were so focused on their craft that they scarcely noticed the people, the wagons, and the wildlife they roared past. Jericho was faster, but both horses were closely matched at first. As the miles stretched on Jericho pulled ahead, his stamina outpacing Blodduwedd’s. But here Arthur was in his element, where Nathalie was at a disadvantage. Arthur knew where the oak was - a fact Nathalie had not particularly thought out, so set was she on her own goal. Several times Nathalie pulled ahead only to have to turn sharply, crashing off road to adjust course as Arthur turned. 

Both horses were slick with sweat, froth flying from their mouths. Arthur’s nose was so close to Blodduwedd’s neck that each flick of her mane hit his cheek, reddening the skin even as he flushed with exertion. Each rider was coiled low, muscles taut with control. Nathalie’s fingers felt numb, pressed so tightly against the reins that the tooling was sure to leave indentations. So focused were both racers that they scarcely noticed the focus of the other. Only their positions relative to one another mattered, and Arthur was winning. 

It was a hairpin turn that proved Nathalie’s final undoing. Blodduwedd skidded into a drift along the outside of the path, stones flying in her wake. Jericho was too close. With Nathalie unaware of the turn the two could scarcely adjust their course without toppling into Arthur and the white arabian. As it was Arthur felt the heat of Jericho’s flank as Nathalie banked hard, derailing their trajectory hard to the far side of the trail and just shy of a grove of oaks. 

The movement snapped Nathalie’s head to the side even as Jericho pranced wildly, thin branches cracking and whipping both the horse and his rider. Arthur was off of his mount in seconds. His voice cooed soothingly to the stallion while extending a hand for its reins. Nathalie grasped her neck with her free hand, grimacing as she slid her reining hand gently to Jericho’s shoulder. The roan calmed quickly, stilling his high kicks. 

Before Nathalie could think about it Arthur’s hands were on her waist, gently sliding her out of the saddle. Ordinarily she would be somewhat insulted at the assistance, but in the moment she could only appreciate the steady, warm grip. She stumbled slightly, falling into Arthur. She was dimly aware of him saying something to her as he shifted his grip on Jericho’s reins and led her forward into the oak grove. After a moment the press of trees and the sharp ache in her neck faded and she found herself blinking and standing in the dappled warmth of a sunny clearing. 

“-You cut at all? Those branches,” Arthur continued, gesturing to Nathalie’s cheek. She was suddenly aware of how close he was. It was those eyes that were so off putting, she decided. Their piercing blue left her feeling decidedly exposed. His pupils were rung with gold, something she hadn’t noticed the night prior. Maybe she only saw it now because of the sun - Or because he was so close. Nathalie blinked again and met his gaze. 

“I’m fine, I think I’m fine,” she smiled, suddenly uncharacteristically shy. Her hand rubbed her neck. Arthur’s shoulders dropped as he smiled with relief. It was a small smile, but Nathalie was touched to see that it was genuine. 

“Good. You had me worried there. Winnin’s not as fun when you’re the last one standin’,” Arthur chuckled lightly. Without thinking he reached out, plucking a bit of bark from Nathalie’s hair. Her hair was thoroughly mussed, having being whipped out of its place in her hat during the thrill of the race. 

She caught Arthur’s wrist gently as he pulled his hand back and he paused. For a moment the two were frozen still and then she was pushing him softly and quickly backward. His back thudded against bark. In two small, slow steps she approached him. The heat in her stormy eyes made him swallow hard. 

“I’m, ah, not the sort of type to normally do this,” He murmured, flushing. She smiled at the unexpected bashfulness. He was certainly full of surprises. This would certainly be even more enjoyable than she’d anticipated, and she was looking forward to relishing every moment of it.

“And I’m not the type to give samples,” she offered softly. “I like you quite a bit, Mr. Arthur. May I?” Her tone was gentle, but her hands were already moving in unison up, up, up his chest. They paused over his breast, fingers warm and trailing coyly.

To his own surprise Arthur found himself surging forward. His arms slid around her waist and pulled her closer. With one hand he held her chin firmly in place, fingers trailing along the softness of her jaw. She was close, so close. He could just move his head this way and - 

The plush warmth of her lips almost startled him. Her mouth was soft and sweet. She moved gently, teasing him into kissing her back. Her hands tangled around his neck and in his collar. Arthur was overwhelmed with the taste and gentleness of her. His thoughts, his worries, rolled away at the almost timid touch of her tongue on his cracked lips. He yielded to her, and then the slow burn of her touch roared through him. Where her touch had started so tender, so tame, something shifted in the way she moved. White hot heat followed the line of her fingers as she began to rip at the buttons of his shirt. 

Arthur did not hesitate to follow her into the blaze. His hands clenched her body to his, and her back arched in response. Her chest shivered against his as his tongue swept her mouth. She whined as his hands traced the curve of her ass and he swallowed the noise. Her teeth slid against his bottom lip, tugging gently as she withdrew. In a second he was shrugging out of his suspenders and they were sliding haphazardly off his shoulders. Arthur’s fingers trembled slightly, skidding over the delicate buttons of Nathalie’s blouse. His lips worked their way down the graceful curve of her jaw, over the slender column of her throat. He nipped there, delighting in the small whimper she gave in response. 

Nathalie scrambled to remove Arthur’s shirt. She made it halfway through doing so before skidding her hands up the expanse of flesh revealed underneath, reveling in the way he shuddered closer. She cupped her palms, touching anything, everything she could. The texture of the hair on his chest slid along her fingers as she trailed her hands down to his belt. She tussled with the clasp of his gun belt for a moment before it fell and Arthur kicked it aside, lips never leaving the arch of her collarbone. 

In a moment her blouse was gone and his calloused hands slid over her bare skin. If he was surprised she was not wearing a chemise he did not get the chance to express it. In a second she grabbed Arthur’s hands and pressed her breasts into them. He moaned at the warmth of the skin on his hands, his chest, everywhere she touched. It had been so long since he’d had this, and the feeling of skin on skin was exhilarating. 

Nathalie tossed her head back as Arthur ducked his head to her breasts, palming them with his rough hands even as he nipped at the pale skin. Arthur’s lips closing around one of her nipples, causing Nathalie to exclaim as he suckled and bit. His second hand was quick to gently tug and pull at her other nipple even as he lapped on her first peak.

“Shiiiiiit,” she breathed, hissing. She melted into his touch. No part of their bodies were left away from the other - the two strangers sagged into one another, desperate for the contact of the other. 

“That’s not very lady-like,” Arthur chuckled. He’d meant to sound suave and witty, but his words were breathy. His breath skipped as she traced barely-there touches over his hip bones and the stretch of his firm stomach. Her nails danced over the sensitive skin above his waistband, leaving trails of simmering heat winding down, down, down into his groin as she tugged his pants open. His cock, long since hard, strained and twitched into the featherlight touch of her palm. Nathalie practically purred, caressing his clothed member with both hands.

“I’ll show you ladylike, Mr. Arthur.” Arthur could practically feel the smirk in her voice. Her breasts slipped from his grasp as Nathalie slid to her knees. He settled for tracing patterns over the bare skin of her shoulders. His mind scrambled as Nathalie blew warmly over the thin cotton of his undergarments, grinning as his dick twitched in response. 

“Please,” he gasped. “That’s Mr. Callahan to you.”

Nathalie chortled, flicking her eyes to meet his. Her fingers curled around the fabric, suddenly exposing the length of his cock from it’s confines. The length swung free, thwacking gently against the woman’s chin. “Nathalie Findlay, Mr. Callahan,” she smiled warmly. 

And then there was nothing but the hot, wet slip of her mouth over the head of his cock. Arthur moaned, sagging against the tree behind him. Nathalie was quick to cover him in spit, letting it spill over those plush, kiss-swollen lips. Her tongue swirled around his head and Arthur saw stars for a second. Her hands and tongue were everywhere. A hand slipped to his spit-laden shaft and began to fervently stroke. 

When he adjusted to the ridiculously long and slow strokes she changed pace, setting a quicker rhythm while gently twisting with her wrist. One hand dipped below, cupping his balls. She swirled her tongue over one, then the other, then both as well as she could and moaned. Arthur’s hands clenched wildly, fisting one in her wild curls and the other into the fabric of his pants. He panted as he gently pulled her hair back to get a better view. Smiling and mischievous gray eyes met his. 

While he watched she trailed sloppy open-mouthed kisses back to the head of his cock. Her tongue swirled around the glans as she slowly sank down his length. Arthur groaned into her steady gaze. He was certainly large, but Nathalie did her best to accommodate his girth. The curve of his cock pressed against the back of her mouth and triggered the urge to gag. When she could no longer swirl her tongue she began to lathe it from side to side, setting up a steady pattern against the ridge of his dick. When she was down as far as she could go she began to bob slightly, giving and taking an inch of his length at a time. Saliva dripped down the base of his cock, flowing freely down his balls. 

Arthur couldn’t take it. With jerky movements he began to thrust lightly. Nathalie moaned lewdly around him and he almost came right there. With a growl he started thrusting harder, faster, deeper. Her fingers twisted on the bit of shaft still outside her mouth and the combination of wet whimpers and the sensation broke the restraint Arthur had left. He fisted his massive hand deeper into her hair and wrapped the other on the other side of her head, fingers reaching the nape of her neck. With crescendoing thrusts he pulled her head to match the pace he wanted, no, needed. He was so close. Long, deep moans wracked his body. But right on the cusp, he could feel her pulling away.

“Nah ah ah,” Nathalie murmured, dragging her mouth away with a lewd pop. She braced her palms against his hips, pushing him back gently. Arthur grunted, hips straining forward. “This is my show, Arthur. Do you have rope?”

“Rope?” Arthur responded weakly, dazed as he watched a pearl of spit shimmer and slip down Nathalie’s chin. Nathalie grinned seductively back at him, delighting in the way his gaze skipped from her heaving breasts to the slick of her lips and then to her bright, amused gaze. 

“On my gun belt,” he replies. He would help grab it for her, but he can’t seem to stop watching the way she moved. His cock bobbed, cold in the open and slick with her spit. The tip was flushed bright red and glinted with a sheen of saliva and pre-cum. She tugged him languidly with one hand while she reached away, occasionally glancing up to study his reactions as she teased at his member. He watched as she gestured for him to extend his hands.

“If you can’t behave, I have to make you,” she retorted, humour evident in her voice. 

Arthur grinned, extending his hands. “Can’t have that, darlin’,” he drawled. “I’d hate to see what punishment you came up with.” That was a lie - he certainly hoped he’d find out.

She peeled out another bark of laughter as she wound the rope around his wrists, deftly knotting them together. His cock twitched, temporarily abandoned. 

“Too tight? Can you escape?” 

He tested the knot experimentally and was dimly surprised to find that yes, while not uncomfortable, it was an excellent knot. “I’ll be just fine, Ms. Findlay. I’m not going anywhere,” Arthur chuckled. She beamed back, enjoying the way his straining hips contradicted his misleadingly calm voice. Just for that, she was determined to make him shout. 

“Perfect,” she purred. And with one quick moment her hot mouth was wrapped around his manhood once again and sinking down, down, much farther than it had before. Arthur bucked his hips, crying out as he hit the back of her throat and felt her open suddenly, then swallow his intruding length. When her lips slid to meet the base of his shaft she moaned and Arthur threw his head back, mouthing wordlessly. Her eyelashes flicked against the dusky curls of his pubic hair. Her hands clenched around his hips, bracing herself against his body. Her fingernails dug into his flesh as she pulled back, gasping for breath. 

“Fuck girl, fuck, you’re doin’ so good,” he breathed shakily. His bound hands moved to grasp her hair once more as his hips bucked onto her waiting tongue. She mewled around him, lapping at his frenulum before plunging down again and again. Spittle dripped down her chest and darkened the fly of his jeans. His balls slid against her jaw, saturating her with proof of their depravity. “Takin’ me so good, girl. Fuck,” he breathed. 

She enjoyed the way his breath hitched as she swallowed him. His complete loss of control, his willingness to relinquish to her was a shot of heat directly to her core. She shifted on her knees, grinding herself on her heels. When she began feeling too lightheaded to bear she withdrew. Both Arthur and Nathalie sighed at the feeling of his length leaving her throat. 

“Jesus, fuck, girl. I’m clo-” Arthur’s hoarse words were cut off as Nathalie began to stroke him once more, her lips suckling the skin of his balls. She took one into her mouth, popped it out, and then returned her eager mouth back to the head of his cock. She slid him back into her mouth until his pulsing head hit the back of her throat and then began to twist her mouth as she pulled away. The hand on the remainder of his shaft twisted gently in the opposite direction. She moaned, flicking her eyes to look into his. That was it. Arthur’s hips bucked erratically. She picked up the pace slightly and was rewarded with a strangled shout. His hands knotted themselves into her hair as his cock pulsed. She moaned as her mouth suddenly filled with spend. She lapped greedily as it spilled down her chin and continued to suck throughout Arthur’s weak cries. With a gasp he withdrew violently, ropes of seed spitting from the head and splashing on Nathalie’s eager and open mouth. 

For a moment both parties just breathed heavily, Arthur slumped against the tree while Nathalie sagged onto his pelvis and dropped her head weakly. After a time Arthur gently disengaged his bound hands from her hair and pulled his thigh away from her wet cheek. She whimpered in response and Arthur chuckled. “I’m just coming down, darlin’.” 

She was exhausted still but her cheeks flushed with the endearment. With a groan he slid to the ground and reached for her. She quickly slipped into his arms and carefully straddled him, making sure not to put pressure on his spent and now overstimulated manhood. Arthur crooned something as he pulled her closer, settling his jaw over the top of her head. She stilled in his embrace, practically boneless with relaxation. 

“That,” she murmured, “was delightful.” 

Arthur only nodded and dropped his head back. He couldn’t think. He felt empty and yet complete in the wake of his orgasm. God, and the weight of her, set perfectly in every way against his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held someone like this - Certainly not with Mary. _ Is this what it should have been like? _He wondered vaguely. The thought and hint of bitter memories drifted away, and he found himself just soaking up the moment and enjoying the feeling of holding this stranger. It felt impossibly good. 

His hat slipped back, finally rolling off of his shoulder. Arthur's hand swept the ridge of Nathalie’s sweaty forehead and she was pleasantly surprised to feel a tender kiss there and then again and again. 

“Thank you Nathalie. I needed that,” he said quietly. The rest of his words were unspoken between them but she could feel his appreciation in the tightening of his grip and the pounding of his still racing heart. She breathed him in, taking a bittersweet moment to savor the scent of leather, gun oil, and a hint of mint. Despite her better judgement she wanted this moment to last forever. Somewhere along the way Arthur had stopped being just prey and had accidentally become a genuine, tender tryst. She could easily see herself staying here, in this man’s arms, forever. Maybe even settling down, lavishing him with touches and warm meals and shared laughs every night… no. She couldn’t lose focus now. 

“Give me a moment and I can return the favor, darlin’,” he continued. His hands twined mussed honey colored curls lazily around his fingers. 

“Arthur,” she spoke softly. He kissed her temple again and she felt an unwelcome thrill in her stomach. She steeled herself, re-donning her clever and emotionally unflappable mask.

“It’s just that I don’t think I can even stand,” Arthur chuckled. “That's embarrassin’.” 

“You think that's bad,” Nathalie started, pulling back from Arthur. She leaned back on her heels and began slipping her hands beneath her skirt. Arthur just watched, entranced with her climbing fingers. “You're really going to be embarrassed now.” 

With a small, somewhat sad smile she withdrew her hands swiftly and held a cattleman revolver directly to Arthur’s chest.


	3. Deliverance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Arthur's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day continues. Also - Don’t do sexy things under false pretenses, folks. Not cool, even if you do have a snazzy horse.
> 
> Edits: Horse names

_ “It’s just that I don’t think I can even stand,” Arthur chuckled. “That's embarrassin’.”  _

_ “You think that's bad,” Nathalie started, pulling back from Arthur. She leaned back on her heels and began slipping her hands beneath her skirt. Arthur just watched, entranced with her climbing fingers. “You're really going to be embarrassed now.”  _

_ With a small, somewhat sad smile she withdrew her hands swiftly and held a cattleman revolver directly to Arthur’s chest. _

“Stay down, Mr. Morgan,” Nathalie continued. Her face was hard and steely. Nothing in her standing suggested she’d been intimate only minutes before, save her wild hair and gaping blouse. Arthur just gawped. 

Had he had his wits about him he might have reacted very differently. She was close, too close to him. He might have thrown his body into hers and slammed her awkward stance to the side, then taken back control of the situation. The animal part of Arthur’s brain acknowledged the scenario. The man in Arthur was just dumbfounded. 

Nathalie propped herself up off his lap and her knees and quickly backed away. The barrel remained steadfast on Arthur’s breast, affixed to the same spot she’d scratched in passion just minutes earlier. 

“I’d appreciate it if you refrained from the usual slurs and insults,” she stated matter of factly. Her feet worked fast, kicking his gun belt far out of Arthur’s reach. “Calling me a whore and a slut isn’t going to get you anywhere and I’d recommend you don’t try. If you want the gentlest ride to the sheriff’s you’re going to have to play nice.” While she talked she pulled a saddlebag from her stallion. He’d meandered towards them sometime during their tryst, and both Jericho and Blodduwedd were contentedly munching grass in the sun. 

Arthur couldn’t help it. A small bark of laughter bubbled from his throat. And then another, a little louder. He was belly laughing. Nathalie just watched. A small scowl crossed her face, wrinkling her nose. She hefted a coil of rope in her free hand while she waited for Arthur to speak. But his chuckles only grew, punctuated by occasional roars of renewed laughter. By the time his convulsions slowed he had watery drops caught in the crow’s feet around his handsome, weathered features.

“Y-You’re serious!” Arthur guffawed. “This was a bounty? You’re a bounty hunter?!”

Nathalie’s shoulders sagged slightly. Despite his mirth, Arthur was quick to note how her aim faltered briefly before reaffixing to his chest. Despite his situation Arthur rolled his head cockily, looking her straight in the eyes. His wide grin faded to a lazy, confident smile. For a con woman, her body language was too obvious.  _ She’d gotten me real good _ , he thought. He'd give her that. But he had been practically raised by Hosea and Dutch. He knew a tell when he saw one. That moment of dropping her guard had told him all he needed to know. She was relatively inexperienced, for all her…. Experience. She was at least inexperienced enough with bounty hunting to show it.

“Are you going to share the joke?” she asked somewhat crossly. “There’s a hell of a price tag on your head. Ankles together, Mr. Morgan.”

He obeyed easily, bound hands raised glibly towards her. 

“It's just that's the best ambush I've ever had. I still don't think I can stand,” He chuckled, shaking his head. “So this wasn’t about the damn treasure at all. I guess that’s well and good - that tree on yer map isn’t here, it’s over with Lenny and Sean. I was hopin’ to get you alone.” He snorted again at the thought.

“And here you have me, Mr. Morgan!” chirped Nathalie. “Is Mr. Morgan too formal? It is a little formal,” She smiled then, taking her sweet time as she wound the length of rope around his ankles. “I feel like once you swallow someone down you can pretty much get a pass on what society dictates as polite.”

“I suppose yer’ right, although I wouldn’t know,” He replied wryly. “Do you do this to all your bounties?” 

“I don't normally like to even let my bounties touch me, but God, I almost wish we'd fucked first before I caught you up. You're something else, Arthur,” she paused as she tested her knots, then flicked her gaze to meet his. “Your poster didn't indicate you'd be so handsome.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow incredulously but said nothing to that. He swallowed, thinking back to the heat, the passion, her lips had wrought. He quickly changed the topic. “Was the map even real?” he asked, thinking again of Lenny and Sean. Once he made it back to camp they’d never let him hear the end of this. 

“The map should be real. I got it from another bounty.” Nathalie tossed him a bright, self satisfied smile. Arthur tugged experimentally on his bindings, and then again, harder, when she turned away from him and pulled something from her saddlebag. He stilled when her attention returned to him.  _ Not that it did much good.  _ Her inexperience may have made her combat attention to detail sloppy but her knots were excellent. 

Arthur’s eyebrows shot higher as Nathalie shrugged out of her blouse and tossed it onto the ground. While he watched she shimmied out of an underbust corset, her skirts, and her petticoat, revealing Nathalie in her entirety. Her breasts were full and moderate, peaking in the cold. Arthur drank in her form with wide eyes. His gaze traced her narrow waist before catching on her full hips and thighs. She was stocky and shapely. She was also entirely unabashed. Arthur was distinctly aware of his own manhood, now clammy with spend and spit and still very much exposed. He struggled for a moment to cover himself with the hem of his open shirt before awkwardly poking and tugging himself back into his trousers. His fly was still wide open but he settled on just folding his elbows forward and toward his knees. 

Arthur wondered dimly how many times she’d done this before. Even as she redressed herself she was quick to retrain her gun back on her target. Her mistake was in taking her focus off of him at all, even in the milliseconds it took to pull a men’s shirt over her head and to tug on a pair of trousers. Fortunately for Nathalie, Arthur was content to just watch. She reaffixed her tan ranch hat back over her curls, carefully tucking them in. Before his eyes she’d transformed into a familiar looking slight and short youth. With her baggy shirt and the brim of her hat pulled low over her face she looked like a young man.  _ The kid from the sheriff’s,  _ Arthur started. 

“On your feet, Arthur,” Nathalie smiled knowingly. She motioned for him to rise as she whistled. Jericho raised his head with a huff and slowly ambled over, stopping with his flank to her side. Arthur shifted to his feet and shuffled forward. He was barely able to move his ankles - she’d certainly hobbled him well. 

“You know I ain't goin’ to hang, right?” Arthur asked wryly. Nathalie quickly gave Jericho a once over, frowning slightly as she thumbed a faint welt on his withers. Realizing her lapse in attention she yanked the gun up, pointing it menacingly at Arthur’s neck. 

“To be honest, I hope you don't,” she replied. “I rather like you. It's just that I unfortunately like your bounty a lot more. Onto the horse, Mr. Morgan.” She tossed the long end of the rope binding his wrists over Jericho’s flank. With a quick and practiced movement she was on the other side and pulling hard. Arthur yelled as he was pulled off balance and up. Jericho shifted uneasily, his roan coat pricking Arthur’s cheek. Arthur tasted dirt, horse hair, and heavy annoyance. With another rough and sharp tug he was haphazardly keelhauled over the thoroughbred’s rump. 

“And speaking of horses,” Nathalie’s voice chirped. She was moving out of his sight. “Don’t worry about Blodduwedd. I’m going to do right by her. She’s a magnificent girl!” Somewhere behind him he heard his mare whicker and step closer to Jericho’s other side. There was a moment of movement during which Arthur could only assume Nathalie was securing Blodduwedd’s reins. He wiggled his body to test his balance, frustrated. 

Small hands patted him in place briefly, making him jump. They casually hitched a belt loop to the seat of her saddle. The hands were gone and then Nathalie was pulling the old black bandana from his neck, folding it, and tying it snuggly into position around his head and into his mouth. He felt the familiar worn leather of his hat on his head as she pushed it into place. She snapped his collar into proper position as he glared at her. She smiled winningly back. 

“It’s just business, Mr. Morgan!” She hollered, swinging herself up into the saddle in front of him. With a light slap of leather reins on the saddle they were jolting forward into a trot. Arthur screwed his eyes closed and did his best to lean into Jericho’s jarring steps. He’d been hogtied and on the back of a horse before, many times even, but he could never get used to it. The world pitched as they moved. When he found himself watching the blur of the ground and hooves he felt bile rise low in his throat. After that he did his best to either keep his eyes closed or to focus them only to the stretch of Jericho’s glossy haunch visible to him. 

They rode for a while in silence, broken occasionally by a jauntily whistled tune from Nathalie or a snort from one of the horses. Arthur was grateful that Nathalie didn’t do much in the way of talking to him. He was busy working his jaw back and forth on his bandana, chewing where he could in an attempt to loosen it. If the brief glances he’d gotten in to the landscape were any indication, they were moving south into the heartlands. Maybe, with any luck, they’d ride right past Clemen’s Point. 

It was a meager plan but it was all Arthur had at the moment. Even if he could just drop his hat, maybe they’d know to look for him… Somehow, Arthur doubted that. He grimaced as he thought about the long stretches he’d been gone from camp before returning. He’d been gone for up to a week and then some on a regular basis. It was unlikely that anyone would recognize his absence as out of the ordinary. Before someone even noticed his absence at all he might have already swung. 

By the time they’d been riding for about thirty minutes they had passed several other travelers. Arthur was dimly aware of a small child gawking on the back of a wagon and a farmer’s unintelligible call to Nathalie. She quipped something back and he heard laughter. As another passerby moved by she called out, warning them to keep their distance. They must have for Arthur heard nothing but receding hoofbeats. 

It was the third set of riders who Arthur started at. He was all but hypnotized in-between the rhythmic rocking of Jericho’s pace and his haze of nausea when, out of his periphery, he watched a pair of familiar-looking feathered brown hooves walking away from him. Arthur shouted out, his cry muffled by his own bandana. The hooves slowed and veered closer to another set of smaller gray and white hooves. As the world swam he saw legs clad in crusty denim kick a shaggy brown flank into a sharp turn. 

Nathalie clucked, and snapped her reins gently. She squared her shoulders and lent forward. Arthur bucked his body against his ropes. He shifted violently forward and the ground lurched before him until he jerked to a stop, his weight caught on his belt loop. 

“Isn’t that Arthur?” Bill’s voice questioned his companion. 

Nathalie hunched lower. In response to some signal Jericho shifted into a casual trot. Arthur’s nose bounced against the horse’s haunches and he heard something pop.

Javier’s voice replied something unintelligible. 

“Fuck,” Nathalie hissed. Her legs surged forward and her body tightened low to Jericho’s back and they were galloping again. 

“Hey!” Bill shouted. Javier whooped. Bill shouted something distantly into the wind, but Arthur and his captor were already well on their way to being gone. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Nathalie hissed. Just her fucking luck.  _ If that bastard had just held still...  _ Nathalie grimaced. She could feel Arthur writhing around behind her, throwing off their center of gravity. Jericho whinnied and she noticed with a sinking heart his already sweat soaked shoulders. His lovely flecked hide was spattered with mud, sap, and froth. 

She made a silent promise to her horse that she’d only race him twice in a day in the future and to groom him extra indulgently as soon as she could. He was a hell of a good horse, but running him like this three times in a day was pushing it. Blodduwedd was already slowing them down - the lead to her bridle tugged insistently as she nervously tossed her head. 

Something whizzed by Arthur’s head and knocked off his hat. A bullet.  _ A fucking bullet,  _ he seethed. He thrashed his head violently and was rewarded as his gag slipped its way down his chin and dropped, swallowed by the blur of the ground flying by. Another shot rang out and narrowly missed Jericho’s heaving neck.

“Stop fuckin’ shootin’!” Arthur bellowed. 

Someone cried out indignantly from behind, but no further shots came. Nathalie responded by hunkering lower and lifting one arm and hand out in a one finger salute. 

Javier countered with a curse. He was gaining. 

Something whistled by Nathalie’s head and she watched the loop of a lasso fall benignly to her left.  _ Jesus christ.  _ Her hand scrabbled at her hip, withdrawing with the cattleman. She fired blindly into the air. It was just a warning shot, but they didn’t have to know that. Nathalie grimaced as Javier inched closer.  _ Stupid. Of course outlaws are going to ignore a warning shot. I should have fucking stuck with easy marks.  _ It was rapidly becoming clear that Arthur Morgan, however pleasurable a pursuit he may have begun, was not going to be easy pickings. 

In a last ditch effort she stretched back, fingers scrabbling at Blodduwedd’s lead. With a sharp tug the mare’s knotted reins came free. Blodduwedd whinnied and immediately slowed, nearly derailing the big bearded brute on the warhorse. No such luck for the closer pursuer. Freeing Blodduwedd may have helped Jericho’s speed incrementally, but they were going to need something fantastic if she wanted to escape with her prize. Fortunately, she knew their location better than she had where she’d raced Arthur. 

With a wild cry she wrenched the reins sharply to her right. Jericho screamed in response, drifting on an impossibly tight turn. The swarthy latino man almost directly behind them overshot the stalled horse and rider immediately. With a shout the woman urged her mount back into a gallop again, this time seemingly directly into the second, bulier man. 

He cried out as she urged Jericho to veer aside at the last possible second. His horse bucked at the closeness, but the wild-eyed stallion and his rider were already veering down a small overgrown hunting trail. They were encroaching the edge of a rocky ravine face dangerously quickly. The trail deadened to a cliff face. Beyond were only roaring river waters and farther still, a minute rough outcropping from an impossibly distant trail.

Arthur had no time to comprehend what was coming. He only saw it all as it happened, only felt the stallion’s body tense like a coiled spring, only realized that there was no trail ahead as he saw it. He had time only to yell, a strangled, choked sound, before they were airborne. Nathalie was screaming too -  _ or was it a whoop?  _ Arthur didn’t care. This was the way it ended, with his stomach in his throat and strapped to the back of a maniac bounty hunter’s horse.  _ _

Nathalie was aware only of her horse, the wind on her face, and the distant ledge across. 

The horrified shout of her captive audience barely registered. She felt so fucking  _ free _ . If this was the way it all ended, so be it. At least she died an individual, subject only to herself. No degradations, no beatings, no hurt, just reckless abandonment and wild spontaneity and distinctly  _ her _ . Escaped and liberated and as wild as she’d ever felt before.

It was only by the grace of some god that they made it at all. The ground was shockingly jarring. Rocks and dirt sprayed underfoot, birthing a cloud of eye-watering dust. Arthur’s nose slammed into Jericho’s flank again, and this time there was a definite crack. His cheek immediately became warm and wet. His shout broke abruptly as all the air in his lungs was knocked out of his chest. Nathalie was vaguely aware of the scream of her horse and the wordless shout of her bounty behind the dull throbbing of her pulse in her ears. Jericho scrambled to stay afoot and nearly failed. He skidded and pinwheeled for a loose and sloppy moment before he was shooting forward again. 

She slumped against the horn of her saddle, slightly slack jawed and breathing hard. She wasn’t pushing Jericho any more - his continued dash was likely borne more out of his own blind panic than anything she had done. It was all she could do just to hang on as her horse careened off trail and into the dark thicket ahead. She lifted her head and shifted her head to the side for a moment to check on Arthur. Blood poured from his nose. Cornflower blue eyes met her gaze for one moment before he sagged his head back onto her horse’s bloody flank. No words were said, but the exhausting and bewildering nature of the entire situation was shared easily enough. Nathalie felt similarly. She hoped it didn’t show. Steeling herself, she turned forward in the saddle and began to reach to slow Jericho.

It was at this exact moment that they hit something hard. Jericho crashed down and sideways. The stallion’s back and side slammed into the undergrowth. He might have crushed his cargo had not Nathalie and Arthur also been thrown so violently. Arthur felt like he was in a dream. He watched in slow motion as the horse went one way and Nathalie went the other. The bounty hunter’s hand slid over his side as she arched overhead. At the last possible second she snagged one of Arthur’s suspenders. The secure grip on his belt loop vanished as his belt loop ripped. For a single bemused moment Arthur was glad he’d worn his nice leather pair of suspenders today. The leather had no give, and he followed her easily. 

The moment was over in a millisecond. Arthur’s weight slammed into the ground and he rolled. There was a very solid sound and he felt his heel connect with Nathalie’s temple. She cried out wordlessly nearby and scrambled to her hands and knees. Arthur would have apologized, but he could taste bile again. There was a ringing in his ears that sounded familiar. He dropped his head back and greedily drank in clean air. His single minded focus was broken as Nathalie yanked his suspender, dragging him sharply to her side and behind a large log. She ducked, and Arthur heard the ringing again. 

Her lips were moving, but Arthur couldn’t hear what she was saying. Her mouth moved again, shouting silently. He prepared to respond and was suddenly flooded with the crack and boom of many guns. Bullets whizzed by and created plumes of dirt and bark as they burrowed into the old wood of their makeshift cover.  _ Out of the frying pan and into the damn fire,  _ Arthur thought numbly. It was the last thought he had before he threw up.

Nathalie’s hands trembled as she unholstered her Cattleman. She tilted her head to the side, trying to still the pulsating sharpness in her head. Clumsily she pressed herself against the log and lined her eye to the sight of her gun. She almost dropped the gun when she fired. Her shot pinged harmlessly a few feet from her target. They were well and truly fucked. Her poor horse had galloped into a tripline strung on the borders of a camp. Nathalie didn’t recognize any of the men from bounty posters, but they were clearly from a gang. The majority of them wore old gray military uniforms. Her hands shook wildly as she attempted to reload. She flinched as a bullet roared past her head, only inches away. 

Aim. Fire. Repeat. Repeat. Her pulse pounded in her ears. She felt sick. She envied the handsome bastard retching beside her. She wasn’t cut out for this. Reload. Aim. Fire. Repeat. The world swam as she fired blindly. 

“What the fuck,” Arthur gasped. He thudded his body limply beside her, his back to their log. “The fuck.”

“Stay down,” Nathalie hissed. Her voice shook.

Arthur spat and pointedly ignored her advice, awkwardly twisting his head back to peep over their cover. A bullet narrowly missed him and he slumped back down. 

“Lemoyne Raiders,” he snarled. “Let me shoot.”

Nathalie didn’t answer him, only lowered her head and fired again. The shot went wide. 

“You’re a terrible shot, girl!” Arthur growled. “Untie me.” He struggled, scraping his bound hands fruitlessly against the rough bark behind him. 

Nathalie ignored him. Her hands shook as she reloaded. Someone shouted, and their voice sounded considerably closer than anyone had been a moment ago. She grimaced and fired several times, her thumb awkward and slow on the hammer. The voices were definitely closer now.

“What are you doing fuckin’ around right now?!” bellowed Arthur. His body surged against his bindings.

“I’m trying, goddamn it!” She screamed back at him. There was a slightly hysterical edge to her voice. 

“For God's sake woman, just let me shoot!” He spat back. Nathalie hesitated. He could practically see the gears turning inside her head. He sagged towards her. “I fuckin’ swear you can turn me in, just give me the gun! I’ll - ” 

His words were cut off as she suddenly lunged towards him and scrabbled around at his back. He angled his arms towards her as well as he could and hissed his relief as he felt the bind and grip of his restraints fall away. He didn’t waste any time taking the gun she awkwardly dropped into his hands. In a second he had pulled her roughly down into better cover and was firing rapidly. A small, quivering hand pushed a paper box of ammunition to his knees, braced on the ground. His hands were a blur. He held the revolver like an extension of himself, like he himself was the weapon. And he was, Nathalie noted dimly. His movements were measured, precise, and lightning quick. She gawked stupidly while she cowered beside him. 

“Get ready to ride!” Arthur shouted. Nathalie nodded rapidly, and swallowed hard. She whistled and heard the familiar bulk of her horse crashing through the brush behind them. She dropped lower still and grabbed at Arthur’s feet. He did not react towards her at all as she cut away the rope around his ankles. He was instantaneous death. Based on the assuredness of his movements and the focus he bore Nathalie very much doubted he had to fire at the same target twice. 

Jericho materialized a few steps back, tossing his head nervously. To her relief Nathalie noted that he looked none the worse for wear aside from a few new scratches. Nathalie tugged on Arthur’s shirt. He afforded her a quick glance and nodded as she motioned to Jericho. He hung back, still shooting as she swung herself up on the stallion. There was a break in the deafening shots and then she was reaching for him. His calloused hand grasped hers firmly as she pulled. In one easy movement he was astride and behind her. She snapped the reins, and if Arthur hadn’t been ready for it he might have fallen backwards. Instead he wrapped one broad arm around her waist and lent back, firing rapidly as the encampment receded into the forest depths. 

If anyone followed them, Nathalie wasn’t aware of them. There was only the ever constant ringing in her head, the warmth of the strange man behind her, and the frenzied bolting of her horse. Sweat stung her eyes, but she didn’t dare wipe her face. Her knuckles were white around the reins. She murmured reassurances to her horse like prayers. When the trees finally thinned and they broke out onto the road she gently pulled the stallion to a nervous trot. Arthur slumped into her and tiredly dropped the gun down to rest against his leg. 

If Nathalie’s ears weren’t still ringing with phantom gunshot she might have heard the three horses quickly approaching behind them. As it was, she did not. Arthur only afforded Javier a shallow nod as the gang member rode up and neatly flicked a lasso loop around the girl in front of him. John and Bill slowed to a stop in a shallow semi circle around the strawberry roan. 

Nathalie swore loudly and twisted in the saddle. Much to Arthur’s surprise he watched as she shimmied and yanked herself out of the ropes. Before she could do much else Arthur reached around and firmly grabbed her thrashing arms. 

“Son of a fucking bitch,” Nathalie hissed. “You swore I could take you in, you bastard.” She struggled wildly. Even in his weariness Arthur restrained her arms behind her back quickly. Nathalie felt a rush of fear shoot beneath her rage. 

“Sorry sweetness,” Arthur grunted. “I lied.”

In one easy movement he slid off of the stallion. Not ungently he pulled the woman down after him. He kept his hold easily even as she jerked and swore, spitting like a hellcat. Bill met him on the ground and reached forward with a length of rope. Arthur’s hands held her wrists easily enough and only let go once Bill had tugged on the bindings experimentally. Bill hefted Nathalie’s weight easily. 

“So you’re still in one peice, huh?” John offered, tossing Arthur a swaggering grin. “You haven’t been caught in a while. You must be gettin’ old.” 

Arthur scowled in response. “This one was a bit different.” He watched as Bill muscled Nathalie into a better position and attempted to feed a bandana around her mouth in a makeshift gag. 

“Yeah,” John chortled. “This one’s tiny!” 

“Jesus fuck!” Bill shouted. All three of the other men snapped their heads to watch as the slight youth bit solidly into Bill’s thick too-slow fingers. Javier laughed as Bill lurched backwards, flicking his injured hand. 

“Yeah, well,” Arthur denoted dryly. “She’s fiesty.” 

“_Merde_, a woman?” Javier asked, eying Nathalie bemusedly. “I’ve never seen a woman ride like that. Or anyone, I guess.”

“She bit off my fucking finger!” Bill bellowed. 

“Relax, she didn’t bite off your finger,” John chuckled. He dismounted to investigate while Bill whined. “Just a good bite, see? Try and move it.”

Arthur ignored the exchange and watched as Javier bound Nathalie’s feet. He carefully avoided her teeth as he hoisted her over his paint’s back. Jericho whickered agitatedly behind Arthur, so he turned to stroke the stallion. The horse stilled slowly beneath his ministrations, but his eyes were still wild and wide.

“You want to ride with me Arthur, or are you going to take that thing?” John called out, having moved on from Bill’s low groans. He swung onto his horse easily and kicked Old Boy towards Arthur. “If he really made that jump I’ll take him if you don’t want him.” 

Nathalie protested with a wordless and muffled cry somewhere behind them. Arthur eyed her carefully and then smiled. “Nah, I want him. I’m goin’ to do right by him.”

A pair of large grey eyes furrowed angrily over Javier’s horse’s haunch. Arthur just smiled. He swung himself up into the saddle stiffly, but relaxed into the seat. 

“You can do right by us by buckling up your pants, amigo,” Javier teased wryly. Bill and John’s heads immediately snapped to look.

“Wha-” John started to question.

“Don’t ask,” Arthur growled. He hastily tucked in his shirt and fastened the fly. “Let’s get back to camp.” He snapped the reigns and was starting down the road before anyone could say anything else. 

  
  
  



	4. Cornered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it feels like there was a glitch in the matrix, there was. I went back and changed the O'Driscolls to Lemoyne Raiders, Horseshoe Overlook to Clemens Point, and Valentine to Rhodes. Because I can. And because I screwed up. Also made Dutch less OOC.

Clemens Point was a hot bed of noise. Rumors and intrigue had clearly preceded their entourage. Arthur scowled. He met no one’s gaze, instead focusing somewhere distant and through the curious looks of his gang. John, Javier, and Bill had no such qualms. They rode with easy smirks. The squirming bundle behind Javier drew everyone’s attention, and that suited Arthur just fine. He nodded curtly at Dutch as he dismounted. 

The older man motioned to Molly to stop whatever she was saying and strode to the hitching posts. The red cherry of his cigar flared as he inhaled.

“Arthur! I heard you found us a little terror.” He evaluated the bound newcomer as he spoke. 

Arthur didn’t respond. Javier dismounted swiftly and began to remove the bounty hunter. When she bucked against his arms Bill quickly stepped in and gathered her legs. He narrowly dodged a frantic kick but quickly pinned her. The two men moved through the camp and towards a tree on the far outskirts. Dutch followed quickly. Arthur took his time, tethering Jericho and removing Bloduwedd’s saddle. John smirked at him and followed Dutch.

By the time Javier and Bill had their captive secured and knotted to the tree, Arthur figured he wouldn’t be able to put off relaying the story any longer. With a sigh he strode after the grouping and stopped back at the outskirts. To his right Uncle shot him a curious look, but ultimately said nothing. The camp was humming with intrigue. As Hosea joined them a loose gathering coagulated some ten feet back. Arthur didn’t see Sean and Lenny yet, but he had no doubt that they would eagerly share their own perspective as soon as they realized the plan had gone astray. 

Nathalie was terrified and desperate. She spasmed fruitlessly against the ropes that bound her. Her hat had slipped away, spreading gnarled curls over her shoulders and betwixt her bindings. The knots pinched the hair at the nape of her neck, forcing her chin up. She’d never been here before, in this situation. She’d never been caught and trapped. The sinking pit in her stomach told her she’d never escape. She felt like a trapped fox. She’d found a dead one once, his leg caught in a trap. He’d gnawed at his own flesh, nearly severed his own limb off just to escape. It hadn’t been enough for him, but in that moment Nathalie would have paid two limbs to get away. 

Dutch gestured close to her face and she seized, nearly snapping her head to the side. 

_‘Little terror’ wasn’t so far off, _Arthur reflected. He frowned as he watched her. Kieran had been terrified as well, but even in his near castration he hadn’t struggled and fought like this. An uncomfortable twisting in his gut led him from pursuing wondering why she fought so much harder. The girl’s eyes rolled nervously to watch Bill as he stooped and hefted Pearson’s big kitchen knife. 

Dutch stood cooly, patiently waiting for the woman’s thrashings too slow. He turned to murmer something to Hosea and it was still several minutes before she had tired herself to the point of near stillness. Arthur felt creepings of unease in his gut. He hadn’t liked that Nathalie had duped him and nearly gotten away with it, but there was something in him that disliked her blatant terror even more. He knew Bill wasn’t actually going to use the knife but her fear touched him in a way he wasn’t used to. 

Nathalie sagged against the tree, chest heaving hard. Her gaze flit from face to face and back again. Bounty papers and names flitted through her thoughts. _ John Marston. Bill Williamson. Javier Escuella. _ Descriptions and imagery of illicit deeds kept her heart racing a wild, jagged beat. The man holding the knife - _ Bill, _she corrected herself - idly wiped the massive kitchen cleaver on his pants leg. It looked old and oft-used. He caught her gaze and smiled, but it was all teeth. She thought she could see a hundred horrible outcomes glinting along the blade of that dull blade. It took all her willpower to shift her attention away from it and to the man standing in front of her. 

He wasn’t particularly tall, but the numerous rings decorating his hands and the rapt attention given to him by the other men told Nathalie all she needed to know. _ Dutch Van Der Linde. _The man had an enormous price on his head, but being the leader of a notorious gang, Nathalie hadn’t figured him a wise target. She’d chosen Arthur because he bore his own high bounty, was often seen alone, and, perhaps foolishly, she’d liked the look of him. She had not liked the look of Dutch Van Der Linde on paper, and she did not like the look of him in the flesh. She didn’t like his dark, thoughtful gaze on her, and she didn’t like his ostentatious presentation. The fine cut of his clothes looked gaudy and ridiculous when surrounded by the well-worn working attire of his men. 

She couldn’t remember what in particular this garish man was wanted for. Almost everything - she knew that much. It almost didn’t matter. She’d met so many monsters, both as a companion of men and as a bounty hunter. She knew what every man present was capable of, what they were likely to do, and she would have preferred death. She hoped that when that end came it would be quick. Prior to that, she was determined that she wasn’t going to go down without using every trick in her book.

When John slipped around and to her side, his fingers rough and slow on the knots of her gag, Nathalie’s heart stuttered. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to lift her chin high and proud as the cloth gag fell away. She could barely hear the words Dutch had begun to speak over the thudding of her pulse in her ears. 

“So I heard you got the slip on Arthur here,” Dutch started. “That’s no mean feat.”

He stepped closer and slowly blew a mouthful of smoke over Nathalie’s face. She said nothing. His voice was loud, clear, and commanding. 

“Not only that, but I heard you’re quite the horseman. But you can’t be very old. You’re what, 23? 25? They must be recruiting young these days.”

Again, Nathalie said nothing, but the miniscule flicks of her frantic, roving eyes betrayed her fear. Arthur cocked his head, watching the interaction warily. Something in her terror left a bad taste in his mouth.

Dutch paused, letting his words sit in the air. He watched her and took another long, deep pull off his cigar. After another long moment he blew a stream of smoke to the side and spoke. 

"My boys were pretty excited to meet you last night. You got them quite excited." The man's eyes glittered as he studied Nathalie's expression. "Real excited."

“You a Pinkerton?”

Nathalie said nothing.

“I heard they use girls.” He stepped back and took another deep drag. Behind him, his men looked impossibly hard to Nathalie. Bill was impatiently thumbing the blade of his cleaver, still boring holes through her with his sneer. Each man had scars, weathered skin, and an unyielding stare. She saw no kindness wherever she looked. 

“Pretty little tricks just like this,” Dutch continued, looking back to the men around him. “Probably get all sorts of things done.”

Nathalie did not miss the innuendo. Someone murmured in agreement, and she twisted her lips into a disdainful scowl. 

“I would have said O’Driscoll, but old Colm would have an expensive time getting someone like you,” Dutch spoke, meeting Nathalie head on once more. “So that, my dear, leaves Pinkertons.”

“I need you to start talking, girlie,” Dutch murmured. His voice dropped an octave, sliding into a more ominous tone. He stepped closer again, and motioned Bill to come closer. “How’d you find us?” 

Bill stepped forward eagerly. His dirty cleaver glinted dimly, and Nathalie was once again unable to look away from it’s point as it descended slowly to her throat. She felt it then, tickling down along the contour of her jugular. 

From his place at the back of the grouping, Arthur began to move his way forward. He hadn’t wanted to draw more attention to himself as it were, but the idea of this woman being a Pinkerton was laughable. 

“Dutch,” Arthur spoke, clearing his throat. He strode forward and to the leader’s side. 

The knife dragged a little harder on the delicate skin of her throat, and then Nathalie felt something warm slip down to the collar of her shirt. She was dimly aware of a big man, Arthur perhaps, stepping forward, but also that her hands were trembling again. If she could have concentrated on anything but the blade skimming over her throat, she would have been frustrated by her fear.

“Dutch,” Arthur repeated.

Dutch said nothing, but he met the concentrated look his best man gave him with idle bemusement. Bill’s knife withdrew, only to teasingly ghost the point of the blade through the thin line of blood it had borne. 

“She ain’t no Pinkerton. Jus’ a bounty hunter,” Arthur continued, frowning. He did not look at the woman, instead focusing entirely on the gang leader. 

“Bounty hunter?” Dutch repeated. His smile was flat. “Do you meet a lot of bounty hunters, Arthur? So close to camp? She knew where we were, son.” 

Arthur shook his head. “She knew where I was, but that’s it Dutch. She went right past camp and Javier an’ Bill.”

Dutch said nothing, so Arthur continued. “She even met Sean and Lenny. Set us up to look at a map, then got me alone. If she was Pinkerton I think she would’a told me so right when she tied me up. And, ah,” Arthur continued hurriedly, noting the tightening in Dutch’s expression. 

“And she can’t shoot for shit. I’ve never heard of a Pinkerton who can’t shoot. We ran into a Raider camp, righ’ before John and Javier and Bill caught ‘er. She had me tied up but was doin’ such a shit job I convinced her to let me out and save our asses.” 

Dutch laughed at that. Someone snorted from the crowd, but Arthur couldn’t tell who. With a casual wave, Dutch motioned for Bill to lower the knife. Bill did so reluctantly. Some of the tension left the moment and Arthur let his shoulders relax a little. Whatever Dutch might have done, the moment seemed to have passed. Dutch puffed on his cigar, brows furrowed in thought.

“How did she catch you if she could barely shoot?” From the table at the back of the crowd, 

Hosea stepped forward. Arthur felt his heart sink. John caught his eye and smirked. 

“I tricked him,” A quiet voice murmured. Too many eyes shifted back to Nathalie. It took everything in her power to square her shoulders and keep her chin high, but she did. She cleared her throat and hoped her voice wasn’t shaking as much as she thought it was. “I told him I was whoring. When I got him alone I hit him from behind and that was it.” 

Nathalie swallowed. She had no intentions of telling the full story if she could help it. If she’d just dodged bodily harm, she had no business putting ideas in Dutch’s head of her on her knees. Arthur met her gaze. She wasn’t sure if she imagined the quiet relief in his eyes.

Titters erupted in the grouping. There was an initial pause and then a low, deep laugh from Dutch. Nathalie's hands, while still white-fisted, had ceased shaking. She was dimly aware that they had begun to ache, so she tentatively unfurled and flexed her fingers while the chuckles slowed. She could feel her joints creak. Nathalie was well aware the danger was not over yet, but her exhaustion was overtaking her fear. Her shoulders sagged with adrenaline fatigue. 

“Well I’ll be damned. Arthur!” Dutch slapped a heavy palm across Arthur’s shoulder, evidently delighted. “That you were past that, son!”

“Evidently not,” Arthur murmured, thumbing his chin with a slight scowl. Dutch chuckled and clapped his back once more before returning his hand to his cigar. His eyes glittered as he swung his attention appraisingly back to their captive. His smile twisted. 

“There’s only one more thing, girl.”

Nathalie staunchly glowered back at the man. 

Dutch stepped closer still. With one well-adorned hand he gently gripped her chin, forcing it down a little. He searched her expression with uncomfortably piercing attention.

“You see, we’ve all got bounties, girl. I’m sure you’d know that as a bounty hunter.” The icy chill in his voice underlay the light smile on his face. “So why on earth would you go for Arthur here?”

The threat in his eyes had never faded - She knew a snake when she saw one. When she’d first started as a working girl her madam had told her two things: to trust her gut and to never show weakness. There had been many other things her madame had attempted to impart on her, but these were the lessons which had kept her alive so far and the only ones she felt were worth a damn. Gathering her courage, she lifted a brow cooly and tailored her expression into a disdainful sneer. If this man with his pomade and his ego wanted to play the big man, she could match him. 

“Arthur,” she replied deliberately, leaning her head conspiratorially towards Dutch. “Was the only here I’d let fuck me.” 

The smile on Dutch’s face vanished. Arthur felt his ears burn in silence that followed. 

In the chill silence that followed, Dutch dropped Nathalie’s chin. No one spoke. No one moved, even, until the stillness was broken by Dutch’s dry snort. 

“Bold, aren’t you.” It was not a question.

Nathalie swallowed, but she met his gaze head-on. 

“Nathalie, I believe I was told?” He didn’t wait for his reply. His voice was curt, but his lips curled in grudging amusement. 

“I think you’ll find, Ms. Nathalie, that our estate here will suit you fine. You’ll be here until we decide what to do with you. Until then - Nobody feeds her for two days. We’ll re-evaluate then,” Dutch spoke out loudly, gesturing to Nathalie with his nearly burned-out cigar. 

When he turned abruptly and strode back through the crowd of people, the air felt suddenly slack in Nathalie’s lungs. Gang members scattered in his wake. 

“Clear out folks! Back to work!” He shouted. The people left between them began to break into hushed conversation. Nathalie let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and let her head fall back against the rough bark. 

Arthur couldn’t remember the last time someone had insulted Dutch so effectively in public. Dutch had taken it better than Arthur had expected, but it had been a close thing. Arthur was collectively horrified and impressed - and if he was being honest, amused and a little flattered. Still, he could feel his cheeks and the tips of his ears burning. 

He tugged his hat lower and slipped away from the grouping without acknowledging Nathalie. He was careful not to meet anyone’s eyes as he made his way to his tent. When he dropped to his cot and slipped his journal to his lap he swore he could feel the penetrating gaze of storm gray eyes. 

He wrote for a long time, longer than he had in a while. Whether he was extra contemplative or just hiding, he didn’t know. He knew it was more the latter when he heard Sean’s familiar shout and, moments later, Karen’s laughter. He decided a detailed sketch couldn’t hurt. When he’d finished a spread of a strawberry roan he pulled his hat further over his face, lent back with a heavy sigh, and drifted into a timely nap. 

* * *

Nathalie had been nervous to see Lenny and Sean again, but she was reassured by Lenny’s broad smile and Sean’s laughter. It was several minutes before Hosea managed to usher them away. Now that she’d faced Dutch she felt more confident. For now at least, she was fairly safe. Seeing Lenny and Sean had helped. In the hours that passed she was relieved and then curious to study the gang members.

In her mindless initial terror she hadn’t seen the other women. She was particularly shocked to see Jack. The gang members were careful to herd the child away from her, but she smiled when she saw him peeking at her from behind his mother’s skirt. The other women ignored her but watched her from a distance. They certainly didn’t look like they were whored for the men. One even had a mouth on her. 

Nathalie watched interestedly for a while before one of the men from earlier, scar face, approached her. 

“Listen,” He spoke. His eyes were wary. “I’m on duty watching you so I don’t want you thinking about running off now. You need to piss? I’m only going to ask once tonight.”

“Jesus,” Nathalie murmured skeptically. “You going to tell me your name first?”

He scowled in response and ran a dirty hand through his hair. The long black strands were greasy, but he didn’t seem to notice. 

“John. My name’s John. But don’t push it, lady. You need to piss or not?” 

“I guess so,” Nathalie replied. Her lips flicked into the smallest of smiles. “I’m Nathalie. I don’t have to do it here, do I?”

John snorted but otherwise made no answer as he untied her. His grip was strong and tight on her elbow as he lead her away and a little deeper into the woods. She briefly considered kneeing him in the balls and making a run for it, but ultimately decided against it. 

She’d wait until she didn’t feel so exhausted. Something told her that she’d need every edge she could get if she had to run from this man. The holsters on his hips were well worn and the guns inside were much cleaner than his hair. He looked away as she relieved herself, but stayed close. When she was done she compliantly shuffled closer and let John bind her back to the tree. He didn’t offer her water and she did not ask. 

* * *

When Arthur woke it was nearly dusk. He braved a quick trip to the coffee pot when he saw only Tilly was there. She smiled when she saw him and poured him a cup in addition to the one for herself. They stood in companionable silence for a moment, the both of them watching the setting sun. Arthur’s gaze strayed to the lone tree on the periphery while his mind wandered. The moment was interrupted by a question from Tilly.

“Hm?” Arthur asked, not having caught her question. 

“What did you and Dutch say her name was?” Tilly asked again.

“I didn’t,” Arthur replied, sipping his coffee. “Nathalie. She said her name was Nathalie.”

“Do you believe her?” Tilly asked curiously.

“I think I do,” Arthur replied, clearing his throat. “She was pretty confident I wasn’t going to get away.”

“Hmm,” Tilly smiled conspiratorially. “I heard about that.” 

Arthur’s ears burned again. He pointedly looked away. He could only imagine what gossip Sean was spreading. 

“Well, uh, good talkin’ to yeh,” he replied awkwardly. He could feel Tilly’s smile as he walked away. 

He’d intended to spend some time bonding with the horses but he veered away when he noticed a familiar white hat approaching the figure on the tree. Arthur scowled and walked faster.

Nathalie noticed Arthur first, and he tried to quell the pleased tingle in his stomach when she shot him a cautious, nervous little smile. She opened her mouth to say something when she was interrupted. 

“Is this the whore I’ve heard so much about?” Micah sneered. Nathalie startled a little, having not heard him approach from behind her. Arthur watched her hands immediately flit into tight, white-knuckled fists around the fabric of her trousers as Micah slid up behind her. 

“Stay away from her Micah,” Arthur called warily. “She doesn’t need you scaring her.”

“Scaring her, huh? I didn’t scare her,” Micah chuckled. Natalie said nothing, but her fists were again clenched as white as vellum. “What’s this, honey?” He suddenly asked with mock sincerity. He reached out quickly, gripping the point of her chin. With swift fingers he swiped a thumb over her jaw. “You got something on your chin!” 

Comprehension dawned slower on Arthur than it did on Nathalie. Her eyes immediately shot wide open. With a sharp jerk she ducked her head away from Micah’s fingers and to the side. Micah immediately howled with laughter. Arthur could feel hatred unfurling in his stomach. 

“What’s wrong Arthur, doesn’t your whore swallow?” He bellowed. His shoulders shook with wheezing laughter. 

“Leave her, Micah!” Arthur snarled. He slammed his palm into the weave of Micah’s collar and brutally shoved the smaller man backwards. Micah was still laughing as he stumbled back and quickly pivoted back to the relative safety of camp. Arthur immediately followed his exit with a glare. 

He met Karen’s stare with an icy scowl and she immediately looked away. Everyone else was pointedly busying themselves. He grimaced before turning back to look at Nathalie. She hadn’t moved; she was still cowered away, her head dropped low and face hidden in a tangle of curls. 

“You okay? ‘Sorry ‘bout him,” Arthur asked. 

She nodded once, her eyes still averted to somewhere around Arthur’s boots. 

“There’s nothing on my chin, is there?” She asked. Her voice was small. 

“No, yeh’re fine,” Arthur murmured. He was careful to keep his voice gentle and soft. He sounded like he was trying to tame an animal. He cleared his throat. He figured she probably wasn’t the sort of woman who’d take well to being patronized. 

“I know what people are saying, what they will say. What they’re probably teasing you for,” Nathalie started. “But I’m not a working girl anymore. I don’t fuck anyone I don’t want to.” She paused and lifted her chin, staring Arthur straight on. He was caught in her expression for a moment. 

Her fear was obvious in the set of her shoulders and the bright pink half-moon curls on her palms where her nails had bit into her flesh. But somewhere in her expression, past the tight jaw and the wary set of her brows, was a very quiet, steely resolve. Arthur wasn’t expecting the determination, the quiet anger he saw there. 

“I suppose I should thank you,” she stated. 

“Uh, yeah. Of course,” Arthur nodded, looking down sheepishly. He scratched his neck for a moment, then remembered the coffee cup he’d brought with him. He found it on the ground, close to Nathalie’s boots. He ducked to retrieve it and slowly straightened with it in hand. 

“Do you want any water? There was coffee in here, but, well,” Arthur finished lamely. He felt slow and stupid until she smiled in response. He felt like a teenager. He hadn’t been knocked off his game like this since God knows when. He was sure it wasn’t just the shared intimacy that was making him feel like this, but he’d also done his best not to think about how she’d touched him since it had happened. He was sure that if he thought about it too long he’d just embarrass himself further. That would have to be a memory for a more solitary moment. 

Nathalie blinked at him. Arthur tried to ignore how the cautious gratitude on her face made him feel. 

“Would that be okay? I mean, Dutch said -”

“Eh, screw Dutch. He’ll be fine. He’s just got to simmer down a bit, that’s all. You bruised his ego pretty good. He’s not used to pretty girls humiliatin’ him like that,” Arthur smiled shyly. 

“Yes, thank you,” Nathalie murmured. Her lips flicked into a brief, tiny smile which flicked away as quickly as it had come. “I’d love some water.”

He nodded, then tipped his canteen into the cup. There’d been whiskey in the canteen not too long ago, but he was fairly positive the aftertaste had left since then. Nathalie flushed a little when he stepped closer and held the cup carefully to her lips. He murmured an apology when the metal clinked lightly against her teeth but Nathalie just drank. She drained the cup greedily but shook her head when Arthur lifted the canteen to his cup again. If she had tasted alcohol, she said nothing. 

After a moment, he tucked it back into his satchel and cleared his throat. “Yeh, ah, need anythin’ else?”

“Nah,” She smiled. “‘Wouldn’t want to make my bathroom guard suspicious.” 

Arthur barked a muted laugh at that and she took the second to appreciate his easy grin. 

“You’ll be okay tonight?” He asked before he could reconsider. The question sounded obviously stupid to him. _ Not like she has a choice, _he chided himself. 

“I’ll be fine,” She replied. She felt overwhelmingly aware of his body close to hers, to how he smelled and how he moved. She reveled in it a little, but she was also exhausted. The day had been long and certainly had not gone the way she had planned it on going, but she was relieved it was over. 

For now it seemed she was safe, thanks in no small part to the man in front of her. She supposed she should be grateful, she reflected as she watched the outlaw tip his hat a little and then walk away. And she certainly was, she mused. But that wasn’t going to stop her from getting the hell out of Clemen’s Point as soon as she could. 


End file.
